


Tears to Wipe Away

by VoidWolfinGale



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:21:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidWolfinGale/pseuds/VoidWolfinGale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short one-shot about depression and two sisters dealing with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears to Wipe Away

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first work here so I just posted it as a test-drive. I just wanna know how the page works first. o/

I don’t know what woke me up. Maybe I had a bad dream, but I forgot the minute I got out of bed. Maybe I was just thirsty and desperately in need of a glass of water. Maybe I sensed something was wrong.

Honestly, it might have been a fusion of these three reasons. I have been having all kinds of nightmares recently and waking up thirsty from them wasn’t news to me. And something was definitely wrong, it has been for a long time now. Ever since she broke. Nothing seemed right anymore.

Looks like I’m picking up on her way of thinking…

No, I needed to stop. I am the strength, her strength. I am not supposed to break, I am the one putting the pieces back together.

The feeling in my chest didn’t vanish though, even after all my internal monologue. My stomach churned with the sensation that something bad was about to happen and there was nothing I could do. Actually, I’ve been feeling like this for a while, but in the light of the day it was easier to conceal it, to ignore my instincts. Now, however, it was almost overwhelming. Maybe because I had just woken up in the middle of the night – what time was it? 3am? Maybe 4am? – I was feeling so vulnerable, I let my defenses down.

I padded through the house, ever so quietly as to not wake my sister up. She has been having a lot of (justified) problems with insomnia lately, she deserved a good night of sleep.

Well, at least I thought she was sleeping, but I underestimated her issues. Again.

As I was passing by the corridor to go to the kitchen I heard a soft, barely audible whimper coming from the bathroom. It would be impossible to hear if not for the extreme silence that reigned over the house both of us lived. Suddenly that silence became really thick and I didn’t have the courage to interrupt it. Scared as always. Pathetic.

The lights of the bathroom were off, I noticed it through the closed door that had no trace of illumination slipping underneath. But there was definitely someone there. Someone who held their breath the minute they realized they were not alone anymore, trying to be as subtle as possible. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was at the other side of the door.

‘’Amy?...” It was barely a whisper that left my mouth as I knocked softly on the wooden door. The person inside released their breath, giving up now that it was clear that they have been discovered, but still remained silent.

I pushed the door slightly, glad that I decided to extinguish all the locks in the house after her symptoms started showing. It was dark but I didn’t want to turn the lights on. They would burn too bright and bring to our eyes the things both of us didn’t want to see. I didn’t need to see any of it to know the scene that was laid before my eyes.

The lights from the corridor and the kitchen though helped me to see some things in the not so dark bathroom. I noticed a figure hunched in the ground, shaking slightly. It was a little cold, considering the season and all, but she looked like she was freezing.

The coppery smell was the next. It attacked my nostrils and I realized I was so used to it already that it didn’t even bother me anymore. It was becoming a normal occurrence, but I couldn’t let that happen. Not with her. Not with my most important person. But then again, I am so weak.

“…I am sorry…” She looked like she had just found her voice after years living as a mute. It was hoarse and barely a whisper, looking like it had fought monsters to get out of her throat. “I-I couldn’t sleep… P-please, I didn’t… I d-don’t…”

“Shh… It’s okay…” I patted her head from my positing standing. I wanted to take her in my arms right away but I didn’t want to scare her when she was feeling so vulnerable. Also, I couldn’t see very clearly where were the cuts, so I didn’t want to risk hurting her even more.

“…It’s not…” Again, barely a whisper. So low I thought maybe I had imagined that sentence leaving her mouth.

I kneeled next to her so we both were on the same level. With hesitant hands I reached for her head that I knew for sure wasn’t hurt and pulled her close very gently. I could make out the tears adorning her face, they shone in the weak light, making them stand out more, along with her eyes, that were also wet and red and puffy.

I moved my thumb along her cheeks, just drying the tears I could find. After that I stared into her eyes.

I didn’t know what to say. She was right, it was not okay. None of this was okay and now I was starting to act like it’s routine. Taking her to the doctors, reminding her to take the meds, disinfecting and bandaging her cuts, holding her when she was crying… It was not routine, it had to stop. How much more cruel and egoistical will I have to be before I realize that I’m hurting everyone around? That I’m hurting the most important person I have ever had? The one I love the most? My family, my blood…

Blood… The smell was as strong as ever. I guided her head closer to me and put my chin over her head, caressing her hair, while she cried her eyes out. In some moment, her hand gripped the shirt of my pajama. Maybe she wanted to steady herself to stop shaking, maybe she just needed to hold on to something, feel someone close.

I noticed that my shirt was getting wet, probably from the blood dripping from her wrists, but I didn’t say anything. She didn’t seem like she had realized and I didn’t want her to feel self conscious and go back to her shell. I just held her until desperate crying subsided into occasional sobs and silent tears.

“I love you, Amy… You know that, right?” I asked, feeling brave, like I needed to do something, anything.

“…” She didn’t answer, but that’s okay, I didn’t expect her to.

“None of this is your fault, sis…” She cringed at the nickname. Like she didn’t want to be reminded she was my sister, like she felt guilty for being my family. She felt guilty for dragging me down with her, I knew that, but nothing would change the fact that she was my little sister, my whole world.

“You are the most important person in the world for me… The one I love the most…” She didn’t make any sounds or gestures, but she quieted down a little bit more and I knew I had her full attention. She needed to hear this, how much she mattered.

“I love so, so much. You have no idea, Amy… Nothing in this whole universe could make me leave you behind, I will never let you go. Even when you lock yourself up and you think you are alone, I am here… Forever, Amy, I swear.” I was crying by now. Even though I had promised myself that I wouldn’t cry in front of her as to not let her feel guilty, but I couldn’t stop the flow of tears. But I thought that it was okay in that situation, because it was not like I was crying because I was sad or tired, I was crying because, I don’t know, I loved her so much, I was baring my heart out, the tears were collateral effect.

“If you can’t sleep at night, it’s okay. My bed is big enough for both of us, I will sing for you, tell you stories, watch tv with you. Dammit, Amy, I would do anything so you don’t have to feel like this anymore!” She gripped my shirt harder, the sobs returned. Maybe I was getting through to her?

But it’s not that easy. I will never stop telling her how much I love her, but it’s not enough for her to get better. It’s a disease, she’s mentally sick. It stopped being plain sadness a long time ago. Sad people don’t try to commit suicide two times now. Depressed people, on the other hand…

Sounds cliché, but it feels like everyday I’m watching a train wreck. I sit quietly behind the glass pane and watch the disasters unfold. When it’s done, I appear and pick up the pieces. Just so tomorrow I can stand behind the glass pane again and see the same scene. It’s such a cruel and hopeless cycle. There’s nothing I can do from behind the glass, I can’t reach.

But for now, the only thing I could do was take her to the kitchen to pick up the first aid kit and treat her wounds. Disinfect her cuts, discover how she hurt herself so I can take the blade away, whisper things to soothe her guilty, hold her while she falls asleep. And then wait for tomorrow.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow is the same cycle. Tomorrow there will be more cuts to heal, train wrecks to watch, blood stains to clean and tears to wipe away.

**Author's Note:**

> Looks like the page kind of messed up the italic parts, I dont know how to deal with this yet, sorry. But just for the record, the italic parts were supposed to be the characters thoughts or maybe a word that needed emphasis, and now they are gone. Again, sorry.


End file.
